


The Wide Open Sky

by chamyl



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Agoraphobia, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety, Bottom Crowley (Good Omens), Established Relationship, Fluff, Love, M/M, Post-Almost Apocalypse (Good Omens), Recovery, Rimming, Romance, Smoking, Top Aziraphale (Good Omens), get in losers we’re going projecting, just incredible levels of horniness for Aziraphale's hands
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-21
Updated: 2020-12-21
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:08:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28218981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chamyl/pseuds/chamyl
Summary: Aziraphale got worse. Little by little, and then all at once.
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 40
Kudos: 226
Collections: "O Lord Heal This Gift Exchange 2020" [OLHTS discord server], Top Aziraphale Recs





	The Wide Open Sky

**Author's Note:**

  * For [summerofspock](https://archiveofourown.org/users/summerofspock/gifts).



> Prompts used: Aziraphale dealing with anxiety, ‘a weird idea you’ve been sitting on’.
> 
> Credits for excellent beta work to [entanglednow](https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/)!
> 
> Happy holidays Summer, I wrote you some porn :D

Crowley isn’t sure when it started.

There’d been one night, when Aziraphale was sunk deep into the cushion of the sofa – doing crosswords like an old man – and Crowley asked him if he wanted to go out to see a film, maybe get some dinner. Aziraphale cringed and shook his head.

“I’d rather stay inside tonight, if it’s all the same with you.”

“Sure.” Crowley shrugged, gently pulling the crosswords from his hands and sliding into his lap instead. He straddled the angel’s hips and tapped lightly on the buttons of his shirt, fingers making their way up to his slightly crooked bowtie. “Can I provide, hmm, any other form of entertainment, maybe?”

Aziraphale could be indecisive about many things, but he was never shy about grabbing Crowley’s buttocks firmly with both hands. Aziraphale’s warm, strong hands – since finding out what they felt like closed tightly around a wrist, clutching at his waist, grabbing him by the hair – Crowley could think about little else.

The angel pulled him down against his body and nibbled at the skin of his neck, and Crowley felt his limbs begin to melt, his eyes fluttering closed.

Then Aziraphale stood up, lifting him like he barely weighed a thing, and Crowley’s stomach dropped. The angel started carrying him towards the bedroom, and Crowley was equal parts rightfully infuriated and horribly aroused. He protested the whole way there, muttering that this was completely undignified, but Aziraphale just chuckled and dropped him onto the bed. By then, Crowley was already hopelessly hard in his jeans.

Aziraphale – bless him – always seemed to know exactly how far to push, how to be just annoying enough to make things interesting but never enough to actually piss him off, giving Crowley an excuse to scowl and act indignant while the angel wrecked him.

He wasted no time at all clicking the belt open and tugging Crowley’s jeans and underwear down in one smooth motion, almost tearing them off of him. Crowley made a sound that  _ definitely wasn’t a whimper _ and stayed on his back, letting the angel fold him in half, making no effort at all to cling to his dignity. Aziraphale had this wonderful quality about him – something Crowley could only describe as  _ hunger _ . He’d spent so long not being allowed to touch, so long being afraid, and now, by contrast, he’d throw himself into sex with joyous, reckless abandon, and not a hint of shame.

Crowley loved it. Crowley loved him.

So he let himself be folded in half, yes, knees almost to his shoulders, naked from the waist down as Aziraphale buried his face between his legs. The angel nibbled at the back of his thighs, lingered on the delicate skin of his balls with sucking kisses that melted away every single last one of Crowley’s rational thoughts, and then Aziraphale’s hands ( _ God and Satan and everyone in between, Aziraphale’s hands _ ) spread him open so that the angel’s tongue could fuck him properly. Crowley’s cock pulsed and dribbled on his shirt as he clutched the duvet and heard his own breathless sounds as if they were coming from somebody else’s mouth. It was incredible what the angel could do to him with a few minutes of pure, undiluted attention.

It was an indefinite amount of time before Aziraphale came up for air. He was wet with his own spit down to his chin, an absolutely filthy sight, and Crowley almost lost it. He grabbed his cock and gave it a tight squeeze, ordering it to hold back just a moment longer, then pulled himself up and snapped his fingers to get rid of all of Aziraphale’s clothes. As for himself – he didn’t care, his shirt needed a good wash by now anyway.

_ I’m going to fuck you now _ , he thought, or maybe said aloud, as he flipped them over until the angel was the one on his back, his beautiful thick cock standing straight and hard, a bead of precome at the very tip. Crowley licked his lips but there was no time for that, he already had no patience left, he couldn’t wait to spear himself open on it.

So he did. It stung, a little, because he was neither careful nor slow enough, but he liked it just like that. He could will the pain away in a blink anyway, but he didn’t want to. Aziraphale’s cock breaching him was one of his favourite feelings in the world.

“Such a rush.” Aziraphale giggled, the bastard, as if he didn’t know exactly what he’d done.

“Shut up.” Crowley decided that he’d try as hard as he could to make Aziraphale come inside him, as soon as possible. He balanced both hands on the angel’s chest and rolled his hips, letting himself moan as loudly as he felt like, knowing that Aziraphale loved to hear him. And why wouldn’t he, after centuries of studiously peppered pauses and long silences?

He bit hard into his bottom lip as he moved, until finally he felt Aziraphale’s hands on his hips, gripping him tightly and guiding his movements. Some days, Aziraphale liked it slow and torturous, some days he liked it hard and fast, and today it was clearly the latter.

Usually, he was impatient when something was worrying him. But that was fine with Crowley, not only did he not mind being his distraction - he liked it quite a lot.

“Touch yourself,” Aziraphale asked, breathlessly, hips lifting off the mattress to slam up into Crowley’s body. “Oh, please Crowley, finish on me.”

“Fuck, Aziraphale, you can’t—you can’t just say things like that and expect me to…” To what? Crowley lost his train of thought as he did as he was asked, tugging at his cock in time with Aziraphale’s thrusts.

“Yes… oh Crowley, you’re so beautiful, you’re—” The angel’s eyes fluttered closed as he gritted his teeth and gave a few harder pushes, spilling inside Crowley in long, hot pulses. Crowley didn’t last long after that; getting himself off was as easy as letting himself fall.

When his ears stopped buzzing and the world came back to him, he realised he had his face buried in the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, and the angel was running a calming hand up and down his back.

“Hnn.” Crowley lifted his head, blinking as he tried to get his brain somewhere close to a usable condition. “Everything alright?”

“Oh, yes, thank you.” Aziraphale avoided his gaze, heart still rabbiting in his chest under Crowley’s hand. “Just dandy.”

Crowley closed his eyes again, ready to fall asleep – but he could tell. He could tell that was a lie.

⚜️

Aziraphale got worse. Little by little, and then all at once.

At first, he didn’t want to go out into the city, and when he did Crowley often caught him blankly staring ahead, as if there was so much going on inside his head hat he couldn’t see what was right in front of him.

Since he didn’t like to leave the bookshop anymore, Crowley decided to grow plants on the roof, so that Aziraphale could have a little privacy if he ever came up there for some fresh air. He even managed to carry up there an enormous vase with a little apple tree, and entertained a vague fantasy that maybe one day they could fuck under it, which he found both fun and cheeky. But, soon enough, Aziraphale started being uncomfortable with the roof too. It felt - he said - like someone was watching him at all times. As if the wide open sky was too big, too heavy for him.

A few weeks later, Aziraphale wouldn’t get out of bed in the morning. It had taken Crowley a long time to convince him to sleep at all, and suddenly Aziraphale was coming to bed every night, when it was so late it was almost dawn, and then didn’t want to wake up at all when the sun rose. He’d sleep the mornings away, then get up for lunch with an apologetic smile.

Crowley didn’t think he had anything to apologise for, but he wanted to know how he could help. Sleeping this much wasn’t like Aziraphale. So many times he’d been about to ask outright – and it was as if the angel knew. He’d make himself smaller, avoid meeting his eyes, so Crowley, for his sake, always swallowed back all his questions – something he’d never been particularly good at.

Eventually, Aziraphale would just spend all day in bed. He wouldn’t open his bookshop at all, and half the time it seemed like he was completely lost in a world of his own.

The sex was still good, at least. Crowley was incredibly thankful for that. At least he had something that could still bring Aziraphale back to him. Crowley would cuddle behind him and hold him, and wish with his whole heart that he could fix whatever was wrong with his angel right away.

_ What do you need?  _ He’d wonder, with such intensity he felt like Aziraphale could hear his thoughts.  _ What can I do for you? _

The sex worked, at least for a little while - it was intense enough, or intimate enough, or  _ whatever else _ enough. For a limited time, Aziraphale seemed like himself again, greedy and passionate and  _ present _ , and Crowley collected those moments like the precious, rare things they had become, and held Aziraphale close to him as much as he possibly could.

⚜️

Every now and again, Crowley has taken to retiring to the bookshop’s roof with a hidden pack of cigarettes for company. It’s good, the fresh air, and it’s also good to pollute it with the stench of a Red Sterling. Absurd as it may sound, it helps him regulate his breathing – he has to suck in the smoke and then let it out. And in the process, he supposes, he’s also breathing in and out and calming his nerves.

“That is terrible for you.” Aziraphale’s voice makes him jump and drop the cigarette off the parapet and onto the street below.

“Shit.” Crowley turns around to look at his angel. “You made me litter. That wasn’t my fault.”

Aziraphale snaps his fingers. “Fixed.”

“It’s not  _ bad _ for me anyway, I’m a demon, not a human, it can’t hurt me.”

“It sets a bad example for the humans, then,” Aziraphale says as he walks closer.

“They don’t need my help, they’ll find bad examples all on their own.”

Aziraphale leans over the parapet, looking out at the setting sun. “Do you know? You stink when you’ve been up here by yourself.”

“I can miracle it away if it bothers you.”

“No.” Aziraphale shakes his head. “Crowley, I…”

Crowley knows it before Aziraphale says anything. He’s about to finally tell him what’s been going on with him.

“What is it?” He asks, as softly as he can manage.

“I’ve been unfair to you, I’m sorry. I just had some… sorting, I suppose, to do in my own head, but I never meant to push you away.”

“You didn’t.”

“No, I did. Accidentally, but I did. It’s just – after everything happened, when the rush and the excitement of the averted Apocalypse calmed down… well, I’m afraid I found myself quite lost. Without a place and without instructions, for the first time in…”

“Ever,” Crowley finishes for him. He’s known that feeling all too well, he already has all the words for it.

“Yes, indeed. And I felt this terrible, ugly  _ fear _ inside me, and I tried to protect myself as best I could. I wasn’t wise, I was no safer in my bed than I was anywhere else, but I…”

“Went with what felt good in the moment?”

“Yes, exactly.” Aziraphale reaches out to put a hand on his arm. “I didn’t mean to worry you, darling.”

“No big deal. At least now I know what’s up. I’ve been wondering. Didn’t want to say anything and make you feel worse.”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale says, and there is so much fondness and gratitude in his words Crowley would think he’s given him the moon. The angel cups his cheek in his hand. “You’ve been so good to me. It’s more than I deserved.”

“It really isn’t.” Crowley closes his eyes for a moment and just enjoys being touched again, being  _ seen  _ again. He enjoys the feeling of Aziraphale seeking him out rather than having to nudge himself between the angel’s fears.

At the end of the day, Crowley’s most honest thought is that if he can spare Aziraphale any of the pain he went through, then it was all worth it.

When he opens his eyes again, Aziraphale is smiling.

“Would you like to move away from the city, for a little while? Somewhere quiet, where I can get my bearings, get used to my new situation…”

“Yes,” Crowley says, without sparing a moment to think. There is no doubt in his mind: he wants to go. Home has always been wherever Aziraphale was. It’s why he asked him to go off in the stars with him. “That’d be nice.”

Aziraphale’s smile trembles and, when Crowley leans down to kiss him, the angel clings to him like he’s the most precious thing he has. Crowley loves him fiercely, and will do all he has to do to make him feel safe again.

⚜️

There isn’t a happy ending. Not quite, at least.

There are days when Aziraphale does better and days when he does worse. Days when Crowley rushes them home, because Aziraphale is too proud for a miracle but too wired to stay outside.

There are days Aziraphale spends in bed (and Crowley’s often with him) and days he walks out as if nothing’s wrong and only realises upon coming back home that this was an exception, something to celebrate. His new normal is the exceptionality of the most mundane things. 

But when he looks at the open sky, now, he does so like a man that’s missed an old friend after a silly quarrel.

It gets bad and then better, it gets better and then worse again, but little by little the ugly days start happening less and less often. Until finally, at long last, Aziraphale is almost completely back to his old self – and yet not quite.

He’s more sure of himself now. He’s been through it, and he came out the other side, and he knows he’s strong enough to do it again if he has to. He’s decided he doesn’t need Heaven on his back telling him to do ‘good deeds’ (besides, he always skirted his duties anyway), he can just go out into the world and be a force of goodness. An independent contractor, he jokes.

It’s on a spring day that he insists Crowley follows him to the very back of the garden. There is a bit of it Crowley hasn’t quite decided what to do with yet, and it’s been sitting there bare since they moved in.

Aziraphale snaps his fingers, and suddenly the corner isn’t empty anymore. There is a big, flourishing apple tree.

“What the—Aziraphale, is this my apple tree? The one I bought for the roof over the bookshop? It’s so much taller!”

“One and the same.” The angel smiles with glee. “I moved it here and put up a barrier so you couldn’t see it. I wanted to get you a present and, well, for beings like us, anything human seemed much too small, and—”

“Angel,” Crowley says, and he doesn’t even mind that he sounds all choked up. “Thanks.”

“You like it, then?” Crowley decides to nod, because he doesn’t trust his voice right now. “Good. But don’t think I don’t know your secret.”

“My—what secret?”

Aziraphale steps closer, running a finger slowly along Crowley’s jaw in a way that makes his spine tingle. “Your wily intentions. Why you specifically got an apple tree, and what you hoped we’d do under it.”

“Or against it,” Crowley adds. “Or on top of it. M’not picky. It’s big enough now.”

Aziraphale laughs, and it’s the best sound he’s ever heard.

“Right, pick only one for today. I want to take our time with this.”

Crowley brings the angel’s hand to his lips, kisses the knuckles. “As you wish.”


End file.
